From: eah4@po.CWRU.Edu (Elizabeth A. Hlabse) Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative Subject: Flashover, Part 3 Date: 22 Apr 1993 15:32:51 GMT Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, OH (USA) Message-Id: <1r6dr3$qq6@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> Reply-To: eah4@po.CWRU.Edu (Elizabeth A. Hlabse) Nntp-Posting-Host: slc12.ins.cwru.edu "Flashover" Part 3 by Tracy E. Finifter Somehow, I knew that the loud blaring that had woken me up was not the alarm clock. A woman's voice came out of nowhere, explaining that there was an activated fire alarm going off in the mall. Dazed and disoriented, I nevertheless managed to get dressed and head over towards the firehouse. It wasn't until I was in my car did I realize that it was only 3:30 in the morning. "Oh, boy," I moaned. Being jolted out of bed at this hour gave me a new respect for firefighters. I arrived in time to see one engine pull out. I jumped out of my car, threw on my gear, and hopped on the second engine just as it began pulling out. "Good morning!" yelled Chris over the loud hum of the engine. My only reply was a weak smile. It took about two minutes to get to the mall, and I stood around doing nothing for about another twenty minutes. Eventually, the three firefighters that had gone in came back out and started packing the couple pieces of equipment they had pulled. Then it was back to the firehouse. The whole experience seemed noteworthy only in its lack of excitement. "What was it?" I asked Chris, rather naively, I admit, on the way back to the station. "Just a blink of the power which set off the alarm. It happens a lot, especially in the summer." He seemed pretty patient in answering my 'probie' questions. I just settled back in the seat and nodded, my respect for these men growing even more. Certainly I would not be happy to be woken up on a regular basis in the middle of the night to answer false alarms, but these men were taking it in stride. I remembered, vaguely, going through similar experiences in medical school and being on call forty-eight hours straight at times. That was hell enough, but these people were on call every day. Once back at the station, we took a few minutes to rinse down the engines and to fill out the standard reports. Then everybody quickly headed home, as did I. By the time I got home and was able to crawl into bed, it was now around four thirty, and I had only two and a half hours of sleep left to me. *** The alarm clock the next morning was not a welcome sound. After two bouts with the snooze button, I finally dragged myself out of bed and into the shower. Looking at the dirty-blonde, blue eyed reflection in the mirror, I sighed at the sight I had allowed my host to become. It felt like my med-school residency all over again. I got dressed in a professional looking suit and tie and headed into the kitchen for breakfast. I was once again greeted by Al, whose pink and gold ensemble was rather hard on the eyes. "Al, where on Earth did you get that get-up?" I finally asked. "What, you don't like it?" he countered, clearly hurt that I didn't appreciate his fashion tastes. "'Like' isn't the word for it," I said, as diplomatically as I could while pouring the milk into my cereal. "Well, you don't look so great this morning yourself, Sam," Al remarked. "Yeah, well, I kinda got a rude awakening last night." "Oh?" Al breathed, apparently with his interest piqued. "We got a call at the mall at about 3:30. I tell you, Al, I can't say much for the hours these guys work." "Hmm," Al nodded. "That's why it never worked out between me and Kelly. Every time we got into an intimate position..." "Al!" I cut him off, knowing exactly where he was going. He continued anyway. "It was duty time." Once again, I was starting to give into my frustration with my partner. "What do you have?" I asked, gesturing to the handlink which, come to think of it, matched his suit perfectly. "No numbers, but some more details," Al said with a touch more confidence than had been in his voice earlier. "According to the investigation, the fire on Saturday was caused by faulty wiring. It was called in at 6:53 A.M. by a next door neighbor who saw smoke coming from the house. By the time the fire department got there, most of the living room and foyer were were already on fire. Mike and Chris went in on a search and rescue team when they were caught in a flashover." "Flashover?" I asked, knowing that it was somehow related to electricity, but unfamiliar with the term as it applied to fire fighting. Al consulted the handlink for the details. "A flashover is when a room gets so hot, that everything in it just bursts into flames. Anyway, the parents managed to escape the house with only some smoke inhalation, Chris suffered from second and third degree burns on over a quarter of his body, and two little children were killed," Al finished with a touch of grief in his voice. "And so was Mike," I continued. I sighed, and considered the situation. Before, all I had to do was save Mike, but now the lives of two young children were also at stake, as was Chris' health and safety. And Ziggy's refusal to make any concrete predictions left me with nothing better to do than take an educated guess. Then a thought struck me. "Al, if we know this fire is going to happen, can't I do something to prevent it in the first place? Or at least let the fire department know earlier about it?" "How?" Al asked. "The department got there almost as soon as they could. It was just a room and contents fire until Mike and Chris went in. They had no idea it was just going to explode on them like this. I'm telling you, Sam, fire is very unpredictable and you never know what it's going to do next." "But you and I know what this fire is going to do and when. I can do something about it. I have to do something about it." I could feel my blood pressure rising, but I refused to believe that there was nothing I could do about all this. I was here to change history and I needed to know how. "Relax, Sam, we'll figure something out." Al tried to sound reassuring, but I could tell that he was no more convinced of anything than I was. Checking the clock, I realized that we would have to work on this later, for I had my persona's job to get to. "All right, Al. See if you can get Ziggy to come up with some figures, and get back to me later." "10-4," Al replied, and slipped back into the future. I sighed again. Even if, by some miracle, Ziggy decided to give us some odds on this, I didn't want to have to face a situation where I had save someone's life, if that meant someone else had to die. To be continued... * Tracy Finifter | "We are all born mad. * * finifter@gandalf.rutgers.edu | Some remain so." * * Douglass College, Rutgers University | - Samuel Beckett * * 13 days 'till "Mirror Image" | *